Out of order is my head,

It’s drowning in the floods of unease,

Surrounded by the overwhelming;

Floating over it all will mend it again.

Out of order is my comfort,

As I’m pushed into something so inescapable,

I’m used to my shielding bubble;

Resting there for a while will mend it again.

Out of order is my self-esteem,

What I tried to construct shard by shard,

It’s now trampled by all else,

Keeping it safe on a shelf will mend it again.

Out of order is my spirits,

As it’s on fire without any reason,

No familiar company can extinguish it,

But dousing it to coolness will mend it again.

I am out of order,

And I have been for quite a bit,

The instructions to fix me are clear,

But how long will it be until I break down again?